


Finding Home

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: All you knew, for so so long, was survival. You didn’t know a real home, a community- You didn’t need any of that with your group around, your very own family.When that family is taken from you, you’re forced to live in a strange new way; Around the walls of Alexandria. You have to find your place in it all, so you can have a chance at your own ‘vengeance for the plunderers’.





	1. Nomads

You weren’t always alone. It wasn’t always this way. Maybe it always felt like, in some ways, you were alone, even around so many others that found you, but never like this. Not in so long. It hadn’t been this way in so long.  
  
Your group- They were a kind bunch, relatively. As kind as a group could be in this type of world. You didn’t have any sort of ‘community’ set up, no place you called home, you traveled as nomads and you think you enjoyed it that way. Settling down, becoming stationary, it seemed dangerous. If you didn’t keep moving, something would always catch up to you, whether it’s the dead, people, or your own damn past. You keep moving, you change the scene, you get to control what it is affecting you.  
  
That was what you liked. That was how you were supposed to live. In the back of your mind you knew it couldn’t be that way forever, that the group would want to settle down eventually. Not everyone could go at the same pace, you knew that and you’d made up your mind that if it came down to that, you’d find a way to live. You always would. No matter what you knew you’d always find a way to adjust.  
  
Nothing could’ve prepared you for what occurred. Your group had never encountered something like it- You all were fortunate enough to have escaped the former bullshit of violent groups seeking to take all you had, that’s why you’d traveled this far, all the way to Virginia. Knowing people like that existed in the world gave you all the more reason to not want to settle down, to stay as small and secluded as you could while still taking care of each other. Even knowing this, even feeling this way, nothing could’ve prepared you for the Saviors.  
  
You were traveling on a road- Those were safer nowadays than they had been a few years ago. Less people, less cars to push aside, less threat posed against you. That’s what you all had stuck by, at least, seeing as you hadn’t encountered a car in at least six months, probably more. You made your camps on the roads, your small group only needing a few tents and a campfire to get through.  
  
For the first time in months, an actual, real vehicle was steadily making its way down the road your group was stationed on.  
  
You had learned to be a light sleeper, through all these years. Your eyes fluttered open, the sound of an engine clear as day behind the symphony of insects and peepers within the woods behind you. You sat up quickly, and stumbled your way out of the tent. Your eyes widened, then you were forced to squint as bright headlights blinded you for a moment.  
  
The vehicle pulled up and stopped close to the tents, close enough that your entire group was up by now, anxiously murmuring as a silhouette exited what you could now tell was a large truck. You already felt something off.  
  
Behind the high beams pointed directly at your group, the silhouette striding forward and patting the truck in some sort of confirmation, was what seemed like a tall, broad man, with something resting against his shoulder. Before your sleep strained eyes could make much else out, something more worrying sounded up; Whistling.  
  
All around the woods, not just from the car. Your skin pricked with worry now, but you kept your eyes trained on the figure, hand already rested against your knife. Soon he’s stepping out into the light, and you can make more of him out now. Leather jacket, some red scarf, and- Was that a baseball bat?  
  
Your own confusion seemed to carry throughout the group, and the man grinned and ceased his whistling, to which the noise in the forest stopped as well. That grin, you’ve never quite seen something like it, and you’ve witnessed a fair amount of ballsy, asshole men.  
  
This stranger flourishes an arm, finally speaking with a voice that commands attention, makes your group quiet in seconds.  
  
“Well! Evenin’ folks, sorry to wake y’all’s sleep, I know how important a good night’s rest can be so let’s not make this too much of a fuss.”  
  
“Now, to answer a question I know is on your mind, yes we’ve been tracking you. Gotta say it ain’t that hard when you stick to the roads like this but hey! I don’t judge when it seems like you all have your shit together enough to survive this long.”  
  
His eyes travel over your group, and you feel them land on you. You know he sees your hand gripping the hilt of your knife, but his grin only widens.  
  
“I’m sure you all are tired and nervous as shit! Hell I would be too if a bunch of assholes came outta nowhere and woke me up. Let’s start out simple enough, somethin’ your sleepy asses can hopefully follow through with. Go ahead and drop your weapons.”  
  
The grin fades a bit, and the man is equal parts confident and expectant. You share a look with the people next to you, and the most leader-like person, a woman named Jen, clears her throat.  
  
“Sorry, no can do. We’re not here to start anything man, if this is your turf or something we’ll move, but we need our weapons.”  
  
The man sighs a little, and shakes his head, the bat against his shoulder adjusting slightly as he moves closer.  
  
“That really wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Tell me, did you not hear that badass whistling in the woods there? That’s my men, ready to light y’all up if you don’t comply.” He inhales, looking a tad more serious as he leans against the front of the truck. “Now, I don’t want to do that, lady. You tell your folks to put their shit down, now.”  
  
Jen is looking more and more unsure, and after a moment of thought she breaks the intense stare she’d kept up on the stranger, and nods slightly, pulling her own pistol and knives out and placing them in front of her. The group does the same, and you watch in awe. ‘We’re really doing this? Just like that? What the hell does this guy want..’  
  
Your hesitancy does not go unnoticed. Jen snatches your knife from you herself, knowing what you’d make of this. You’d want to fight, keep your things. She knew better.  
  
The stranger laughs a little, “There we go! Boss lady puttin’ her foot down, that’s what I like to see. Now,” He steps forward, coming close to the group. “What’s your name, boss lady?”  
  
“It’s Jen. Let’s cut to the chase here- What is it you want?”  
  
The man’s face hardens a bit- You can see it clear now that he’s closer.  
  
He takes a long moment to answer, sizing Jen up, who impressively does not falter against his intimidation. “Well, as a little show of what the hell is exactly going on here, I want you and your hillbilly friends to kneel.” The words are quiet now, serious and demanding.  
  
You feel.. Angry. This man has hardly done anything yet and already you feel an intensifying anger for him. How dare he talk to Jen that way, demand complete strangers to kneel for him. Without thinking, you speak up, your anger stinging into your words. “Why the hell should we kneel for you.”  
  
The intense gaze is immediately turned to you. You can see his clearly, and you feel the rest of your group’s as well. The stranger turns slightly so he’s facing you now, and he gets even closer than he did with Jen. The bat adjusts again, he simply shifts it against his shoulder and you can tell from how close he is the weight it must have. Just the simple adjustment is enough to amplify your anxiety, but you push through it somehow and match his gaze.  
  
Surprisingly to you, he smiles. It’s unnerving, and you notice his fingers tighten on the bat. He speaks lowly, sizing you up. “Well, look at you. Askin’ those big questions everyone else ain’t got the balls to ask. I love that! Lemme ask you somethin’.” He straightens his back up and moves his arm, the bat resting at his side now. “Would you like me to show you why?” He suddenly yells, his voice booming unprecedentedly. “Am I gonna have to kill one of you just to get you to kneel?!”  
  
As he yells you jump a bit, he’s still close and his voice is loud enough it shakes you up a little. Stubborn, but fearful now, you look away. It takes Jen’s panicked whispers to grab your attention, pull you out of whatever was going through your mind- Shes afraid too, and seeing her like that is enough to make you want to kneel.  
  
So you do, you kneel in front of this stranger, the bat now practically in front of your face.  
  
“There we go, people! Jesus was that so hard?” The man laughs as if he didn’t cause a wave of tension as the rest of the group follows you, and kneels. He returns his attention to Jen, “Now, time to get to business. We-“ He flourishes his arms as people with heavy artillery finally make their way out of the woods, surrounding your group. “Are the Saviors! You mentioned turf earlier, Jen, and I’m afraid you absolutely have crossed into ours. The Saviors have built a life here in this neck of the woods- We run the show. Now I know you people are thinking, ‘Saviors? The hell are these pretentious assholes?’ Well, we ain’t called that because we force random folks onto their knees and take their guns. No, we Save people. Give ‘em jobs, a place in this new world at our Sanctuary. That is what I am offering you fine people tonight.” A warm smile returns to the man’s face as he speaks.  
  
You can’t help but roll your eyes. He doesn’t see, thank god, you have a feeling if he did he’d make you some sort of example. You’ve heard this sort of thing before, someone promising a life outside of this, a life that often was brought up as much more than it actually was. You didn’t trust a word this man said.  
  
“If that sounds appealing, and I know it does, all you have to do is mosey on into our truck here. If not, we’ll have to make some different negotiations here. What’ll it be, Jen?”  
  
Your leader’s brow is furrowed, a frown still promptly on her lips. She’s thinking hard, eyes trained on the ground.  
“What.. What sort of negotiations?”  
  
There’s a pause and a small sigh, “The kind that involve tying y’all up and takin’ you to the sanctuary ourselves, maybe even the kind that involves bullets. But if that happens and it will if I don’t get an answer soon, it will be entirely your fault if any of your good people here die. Smaller groups like you, there’s a lot of personal connection, eh? I’m guessing you don’t want anything like that to happen tonight.”  
  
Jen huffed and looked up at the man, scowling. “You’re going to take us either way? I refuse to force my people into something like that, not if they don’t want to. This is all we’ve known, and we damn well don’t want to be reintroduced into society against our own wills.”  
  
You chance a look up as well, and the man rolls his eyes, “Honey if you don’t think I’ve killed more people for less than this... Look, you can refuse all you want. You wanna set that as the standard for your people here, fine, I get it.” He steps back a bit, the barbed bat moving in his grip. “In the end, you’ll work for me. Everyone does.”  
  
You remember seeing it before feeling it. The bat was in his hand one moment and suddenly in your face in the next. Then it was actually in your face. You’re knocked back onto the ground, and you clutch your now bleeding cheek. The pain hits after the initial shock, and you curl a bit, gasping and yelping in pain.  
  
That’s when chaos began. You were on the ground, and as soon as you went down someone- You’re still not sure who, had lunged at the stranger angrily, trying to take his bat. They wrestled on the ground for a moment before a gunshot rang out. Then another one, and another one.  
  
The last thing you remember hearing is the man yelling, “Fuck these people, light em up!”


	2. Isolation

You woke up after the carnage, and long after the Saviors had left. Your head pounded, and your cheek still gushed blood, as you sat up you felt your entire face ring with pain. Without thinking you moved to feel your cheek- You held back the yelp of pain as you discovered the barbs had torn you up, cut across your face deep.  
  
Panting, you will yourself up, standing a bit shakily as you gathered yourself. It takes a good moment before you really understand what is around you.  
  
Everywhere, throughout the entirety of the camp, are the corpses of your friends. Your group, your people. You drop to your knees again, tears filling your eyes. Jen was sprawled out near you, riddled in gunshot wounds, which seemed the fate of everyone else. Did they think you were dead? Did they just not have the time to check if you actually were?  
  
You feel anger again- Anger and horror and remorse. They should have killed you, that would have been less cruel than forcing you to witness this. You sob pitifully for a long while. Long enough that the sun is beginning to illuminate the sky, graying it enough so you see even more. The tents are destroyed, looted, everyone’s guns and weapons that once laid on the ground taken. Your own weapons included.  
  
Then reality sets in. You’re back at square one. No friends. No weapons. No food, shelter, nothing.  
  
You realize how long it’s really been, when the first body begins to twitch. You gulp and move away immediately, reluctantly backing away from the corpses. You knew they’d have to rise at some point, it just.. Didn’t seem real until now.  
  
You don’t wait to see all of them turn. You don’t want to, it’s just.. Too much. It’s too much. You have no other choice other than venturing into the woods, the only thing with you being an empty backpack and blood stained clothes.  
  
As the sun rises fully, you start to really feel the paranoia set in. How long are you going to be in these woods? Alone? How long are you going to go without a weapon? How close is that Sanctury they talked about? Did they intentionally leave you alive there, just waiting for you to get up and realize what happened? Are they waiting in these woods now?  
  
All these questions swirl around your head and just cause it to throb harder, makes the pain you feel even worse. You can’t help the tears now, maybe you don’t even notice you’re still crying as you push your way through the woods.  
  
Luck must’ve been on your side that day, because after a good bit of walking, you come upon a clearing, and a small, decaying home. You want to run for it, brute force your way inside and get whatever you can, but you know how dangerous that is. You’re alone now, you’ve gotta start this shit early. Who knows when the next time you’ll get help again is. Or even see another person, for that matter.  
  
You crouch at the tree line, searching around for anything you could use as a weapon. There’s rocks, which you scoop up, and a few sturdy looking sticks around. It’ll have to do. It has to. You grab a long stick and a few heavy rocks, and slowly, quietly make your way to the house.  
  
The rocks prove to be useful, you throw them into a broken window inside, which alerts the dead within. You scout along the house while the dead are shuffling their way to the rocks, discovering a long since busted front door. The sight of it ajar doesn’t make you very hopeful there’ll be much inside, but you just need shelter, somewhere to rest and.. Think.  
  
You quietly make your way to the now gathered dead, the stick tight in your grip. Suddenly you are reminded of the night before, the wooden bat that psychopath wielded. You falter slightly, and your increasingly ragged breathing causes one of the dead to turn slightly.  
  
It notices you immediately, and it’s attention just draws the other two’s. You shake your head (Shooting a bit of pain in your cheek), and ready yourself. They groan and shuffle towards you, arms reaching out- They dont get far, you drive the stick into the first one’s neck, twisting it up and yanking it out. This takes more from you than expected and you stumble a bit as it falls to the ground. The other two trip over it’s body, but still walk towards you. You pant and knock one back over the first, making it fall against the creaking floor, knocking up dust into the air. The one still coming grabs at your shirt, but you quickly drive the stick up through it’s jaw and throw it back, leaving just one to crawl your way.  
  
With an anguished yelp you stomp your heavy boot into its skull, caving it’s rotting cranium inwards and destroying it’s brain, promptly covering your boots in dark viscous. You pant and stare at the pile of dusty corpses, tears welling in your eyes again.  
  
You slide down against a wall, your head falling into your hands as you sob. You let go and let your hands grip at your hair. If you had just stayed quiet, hadn’t said a thing and fell in line, your group might still be alive. You’d be on the way to whatever the fuck the Sanctuary was, but your friends would still be breathing. Your family, your group..  
  
You gasp for breath between sobs. You are the reason they all died.  
  
Noon arrives before you finally stop crying. Now you sit within this lonely, old house, watching and listening solemnly. You know you need to move. You need to keep going, at least loot this place, loot the dead, do something. It should be natural to you now but it’s not. This isn’t right, you keep imagining any moment Jen is going to run in, ask what’s going on.  
  
Your head throbs. Your cheek is still dripping blood, and you begin feeling weaker and weaker as time passes. Soon it seems unimportant to you to even move. Without your family, those you survived for so long with, what do you have to live for?  
  
Soon the throbbing gets worse; It passes your mind that it may be possible you have a concussion. Your stomach growls angrily at you, though the thought of eating makes you feel sick. Images of your dead friends flash in your mind and you can’t help it, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about it over and over. How can one day strip away everything from you?  
  
Your vision begins to blur. Your body knows you need rest, but your instincts scream at you to stay awake, keep going. You know you can’t. You slump, and lose consciousness.  
  
Five hours. That’s how long you figure you’ve been stuck here in this house. It wasn’t always like this. You had a family, friends you often distanced yourself from, friends that understood you did this and still loved you nonetheless. This isolation- This unwilling, cold, cruel new future ahead of you, it hasn’t been this way in so long. Not since before you found that group, during the early days of the apocalypse. It wasn’t always like this.  
  
You hear the dead. That’s what wakes you up, your head still throbbing painfully. You noticed immediately how weak you feel- Your cheek stopped bleeding eventually, but before it could you lost a good amount of blood. You also feel hunger raking at you, you clutch your stomach and grit your teeth, trying to be as quiet as possible. Your breathing is shallow as you hear them shuffling outside, but you can’t bring yourself to rise. You’re too weak, too defeated; You’re close to letting this world take you.  
  
The dead, only a couple of them, slowly walk into the doorway. You’re sat near the kitchen, and you’ve made the effort to crawl your way behind the kitchen island in the middle. You don’t have your stick, anything, you’re just going to have to let this play out.  
  
You hear them walking about, snarling and groaning that way they all do. You search around the ground for something you could draw them away with, maybe you could get your stick afterwards. All that’s laying around you is dust, pebbles, and.. Boards of wood. You didn’t notice that before, these weren’t here when you first got in. Putting two and two together you look up, and dread fills you as you see holes through the roof, where these boards fell. One is hanging, held on by splinters and swinging dangerously.  
  
Before you can act, it falls.  
  
As if things weren’t bad enough, the board falls directly onto your head. It wasn’t very high up, but it still knocks against you, sends a sharp pain through you that certainly doesn’t help your already probably concussed head. When you come to your senses the dead have found you, they snarl and drop to their knees, reaching for you with bloodied fingers. You yell, panic flooding you as you take the board and use it to knock them back, you turn and crawl backwards, panting and crying, they follow your movement, and you can’t take it anymore.  
  
“No- No no no! Stop! Fucking stop!” You bash the board fruitlessly against them, it splinters into their bodies and only serves to push them back just enough. You know it won’t be enough very soon.  
  
This is it. This is your death. You never imagined it would be like this, you always hoped you’d die protecting your friends, doing something heroic like that. Instead you got everyone you cared about killed. Now, you were going to die in this house, join these two rotting corpses and turn other poor fuckers like yourself.  
  
These thoughts wash over you, and you feel almost ready to let this happen.  
  
Before it can, though, something else does. Something that makes you jump and look around frantically. Before the two dead can climb upon you and tear into your flesh, an arrow flies through one’s head, then in seconds another for the remaining one. They slump limply against you, and you panic more. Another person, a stranger.  
  
Before you even have time to react whoever shot the two is in front of you, pointing a crossbow at you. In the dark you can’t make much out, but frankly you don’t need to.  
  
“Get up.”  
  
The man says this, only this. His voice is low, and almost sounds strained from misuse. Your eyes are wide but you nod, and raise your hands in front of you to show you’re unarmed as you rise slowly. Pain throbs in your head, and you have to lean against the wall to stay up.  
  
The man steps closer, crossbow still trained on you. “You bit?”  
  
You know he sees the blood, but it’s not yours. It’s your dead friend’s. You shake your head, your eyes falling to the floor. You realize you should say something, “No, no. I’m not bit, you can check.”  
  
Theres a pause, and the stranger lowers the bow slightly. “Who’s blood is that, huh?”  
  
The question cuts you a bit. It must show on your face, you close your eyes and inhale, your voice wavering. “My- It’s my friend’s. It’s.. They all died. Some group just- Just massacred us all.”  
  
“That what happened to your face?”  
  
You look at him again. He’s lowered the bow more now. You nod, “Yeah.. S-some psychopath with a bat, he hit me in the face and my, my group fought him. They died.. Every single one, because of me,” The last bit you mumble more than you actually speak, your eyes falling to the ground as you recall the gunshots, the bodies, the blood.  
  
He seems to think for a good few moments. “I saw that on the road. Tracked you here.” Carefully he slides the strap of his bow back onto his shoulder, and starts stepping away. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”  
  
He doesn’t seem to wait for you to answer before he’s already moving. You catch up, you have no reason not to at this point. This guy didn’t kill you on sight, maybe it’s okay to walk with him.  
  
He stays silent as he leads you back out to the road. You fill with anxiety as you think about seeing your camp again, but you push it down. Can’t seem even weaker than you already do.  
  
You finally speak up, “Thanks, for back there. I was about to just.. Let it happen.”  
He offers a grunt, doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. You try something simpler. “Well uh, what’s your name?”  
  
The man stops, looking around the woods carefully, as if you’re being followed. He turns to you, something about his look tells you those words make him uneasy, maybe even angry.  
  
He must see the fear in your eyes, because he blinks and settles down, looking away, “Daryl.”  
  
With that he starts walking again. The road is visible now, and you slow a bit. You don’t want to see this again.  
  
But, you have to. You gulp and emerge from the woods with Daryl. The bodies have moved since last you were here, though every one has a fresh new wound in their head, you can only assume that was Daryl’s work. You stop, staring at them.  
  
Daryl doesn’t notice until he’s climbing onto his motorcycle. He stops and waits, gives you a second. There’s a mutual understanding as you walk slowly through your small camp. You stop at Jen, and lean down. She’d found this gray-green jacket a few months back, and you always thought she looked nice in it, you even wore it a couple times under circumstances you don’t even remember. You sniffle and pull it off her body, clutching it tightly and pulling it on. It’s covered in blood, gore, and it smells equally as disgusting, but you don’t care. It’s all you have left of them.  
  
Daryl avoids eye contact as you climb onto the back of his ride. You clutch the sides, staring blankly and trying to keep your tears hidden.  
  
He nods a little when you get on, and revs up the bike, speeding off into the night.


	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn’t all accurate to canon, hope that doesn’t make this shitty. Also, reader is gender neutral, so you won’t have to worry about that later on.

Your mind and body are exhausted. You’re injured, hungry, thirsty, it was only inevitable that you would slump a bit, fall in and out of consciousness. You don’t realize, but halfway through this ride your forehead slumps against Daryl’s shoulder, which only gives him incentive to hurry up.  
  
By the time you’re conscious again, the motorcycle is coming to a slow. The sun is coming up again, and your eyes adjust a bit as you stir. You realize you’re looking up at a wall, with someone at the top with a gun guarding it. There’s cars all around the front, almost blockading the gate itself.  
  
‘Welcome to Alexandria, Safe Zone, Mercy for the Lost, Vengeance for the Plunderers’  
  
It’s a town. Not just a bunch of tents all lined together, it’s a town. Big, suburban houses, people who look clean and happy, kids running around in the rising morning sun. You gasp softly at the sight of it all, you didn’t know things like this still existed.  
  
Daryl parks his ride at what you can only assume to be his own home. He slides off and you do the same, gawking in awe at everything around you.  
  
You feel him watching you, and you try to hide the fact you’re amazed a bit more when you remember he’s there.  
  
“C’mon, we got to clean you up. Then you’re seein’ Rick.” Theres a tone in his voice, and you know he’s not giving you a choice. You don’t fight it, he leads you away and through the town, to what you can only assume is some kind of infirmary. You settle inside as Daryl refuses to join you. You’re not sure why, but seeing the place seems to shake him up. You wonder inside, and you’re met with a woman who’s sniffling and organizing a few things, she doesn’t seem to know you’re there.  
  
Preemptively you put up your hands to show you’re not armed, and clear your throat a bit awkwardly.  
  
The woman turns and furrows her brow. Shes broad shouldered, her brown hair tied in a ponytail, and peculiarly she’s wearing a pair of bright orange sunglasses.  
  
“Who’re you? Oh- Wait, yeah, sorry Daryl called in. Um, sorry yeah, go ahead and sit.” She wipes her eyes behind the shades and gathers a few things. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on, but your head hurts too much to fight it. You sit at the little patients area- They even have one of those beds that used to be in doctor’s offices. In a moment she’s ready, her shades discarded as she pulls up a chair in front of you.  
  
“I’m Tara. Sorry for the crying shit, um.. My girlfriend just died. She was the doctor here, so, this may not be the best medical care you’re gonna get for a while. I have meds though, those should help. What’s your name?” This Tara woman speaks matter-of-factly, even talking about something so sensitive.  
  
You hesitantly mumble your name.  
  
“Right. Okay, jesus you look like you’ve been through hell. Did Negan do this to you?” She grabs a rag and applies just a bit of alcohol to it, before dabbing at your torn cheek. It stings and you have to grit your teeth, which she seems to notice. She starts cleaning away the dried blood instead.  
  
“Negan? Is that, the guy with the bat? I-I just know some group, the Saviors I think, they, t-they massacred my group.”  
  
Tara stops and glances over your face, “Oh.. Shit, I’m so sorry.” She continues cleaning your wound, trying to be slow and careful for you. “The Saviors have been killing us for a while now. We’re in a bad place with them.. Maybe you’ll be able to join us, I hope so. You deserve any kind of vengeance you can get. We all do.”  
  
That word again, vengeance. The concept didn’t mean much to you before this, but it’s sounding more and more appealing.  
  
Tara finally gets your face all cleaned up, and though it’s stinging like a bitch you’re happy to not have your face become infected.  
  
“I think you’re gonna need a couple stitches.. Sorry about this-“  
  
“‘S fine. Just, do what you have to.”  
  
Tara nods, and pulls a little med-kit close.  
  
It doesn’t take long, maybe twenty or so minutes. You take the stitching like a champ, just grunting and inhaling sharply at times. Luckily you don’t need too many, and Tara spares you a bandage and a good amount of pain killers. You tell her you haven’t had any water in hours, and she hurried off to find some for you.  
  
You make your way outside, where Daryl is waiting for you, leaned against the porch. He side glances you, almost seems to want to say something before he leans up again, walking off and expecting you to follow.  
  
You do. You want to, you only know two people here so far, and Daryl has been more than trustworthy to this point. He seems to know what the situation with your being here is. He leads you off to another house, as you take the meds Tara had given you on the way, gulping down your water.  
  
Outside the house, there’s a kid. Well, a teenager, he’s sporting a wide brimmed hat, real long hair, and perhaps most curiously, a large bandage over his eye. He glances you over, a small smile on his face before he looks to Daryl, who nods slightly. The kid opens the door up for you both, and you carefully step inside.  
  
It’s the first time in ages you’ve been in an actual home. A real, lived in home, not just some place you scavenged in for a bit. It’s clean, theres a familial atmosphere that’s almost enough to overwhelm you. The look on your face must give away how you feel, Daryl hangs back after seeing that awed look again. You turn to him, feeling out of place.  
  
“This is uh.. Impressive. I haven’t seen anything like this in a long time.”  
His face softens a little, but he just shrugs. “‘S alright.”  
  
You hear someone moving in front of you, and from a hallway another person is walking towards you. You have the instinct to straighten your back up, appear as stable as possible in the face of new people.  
  
This man looks.. Rough. Not covered in blood and starving rough, like yourself, but.. Rough. Like he’s healing from a fight. His curly hair is a bit greasy- Or maybe he’s just sweaty, you can’t really tell. His chin is covered in this graying scruff, and his piercingly blue eyes are trained on you. You can’t get a sense of how he feels about you just from his face, he seems off.  
  
“We uh, we heard about you from Daryl. You were attacked by the Saviors?”  
  
You nod at him, the image of your dead friends flashing in your mind again. “We were just traveling- That’s what we’ve been doing for years now, just traveling. Sort of.. Sort of nomads. Never had anything like this.”  
  
The man- Daryl mentioned the name ‘Rick’, you can only assume this is him, he shifts in his spot, seeming interested.  
  
“This guy, he told us to kneel. They had us surrounded and, and we could tell because there was this whistling in the woods. He made us drop our weapons and kneel. My friend,” Your voice wavers a little and you pause, shaking your head and glancing at the ground. “My friend, Jen, she was trying to get me to do what he said too, but I.. I just didn’t know what was going on. I asked him why the hell we should kneel, I hesitated in giving up my weapons. Jen started to doubt this shit too and, and she asked questions- just,” Your breath picks up and you close your eyes.  
  
After a second, you regain your breathing. Rick nods his head, looking away from you and allowing you to finish.  
  
“I got hit with that bat. That’s what happened to me. My friends saw it and, I guess they just lost it and tackled the dude. I heard gunshots before I passed out. Woke up and, everyone was dead. Every single person in my group.” Your voice gains more anger as you recall this, hatred beginning to swirl in your mind at the man with the bat.  
  
Rick takes this information in, rubs his scruff thoughtfully.  
  
“Yeah, we lost people to that asshole too. He lined us up and-“ He stops and shakes his head, stepping back a little. You wonder if this Rick guy is even okay himself..  
  
Daryl steps forward past you almost immediately, saying things you can’t quite make out. Rick nods and sighs, trying to compose himself. You feel a certain pain watching it, what happened to these people?  
  
“I lead this town,” Rick says finally, still sounding slightly strained. “And right now, Alexandria is in the hands of the Saviors. We’re trying to work against it, tryin’ to figure out some way to fight them. Right now, it’s gotta stay alright. Keep up appearances for a week or so, then we start.” He gets closer to you, a new look in his eyes as he meets your own. “When the time comes, are you gonna be willing to fight them?”  
  
Your eyes widen slightly, and the anger you felt before just fuels a new need for vengeance. Rick’s words, the prospect of fighting those bastards with these people; It’s something you feel you have to do. For your group, for yourself.  
  
“I’ll kill every last one myself if I get the chance. If you’re fighting them, I want in. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”  
  
Daryl and Rick share a look between each other, as if deciding silently what should be the next move. Rick steps back, a hand returning to his scruffy chin.  
  
“You’re gonna stay with Daryl. He’s gonna keep an eye on you- It’s not that we don’t believe you, Saviors are capable of anythin’.” He gets close to you now, his eyes squinted as he scowls. “You turn out to be some kind of spy for Negan, I will kill you myself. Got that?”  
  
In light of recent events you back away slightly, nodding without making eye contact. Daryl huffs, clearly not big on the idea of having someone stay with him. You can’t say you’re particularly excited about that either, for so long it’s just been you and your group, no outsiders, no big town, just you.  
  
Rick offers you one more glance before a noise from the other room alerts him- The sound of a toddler crying out. Did Rick have his own kid? Kids? You understand a little better why he may be the way he is, if people like the Saviors are out there, and they’ve already done things to these people to make their leader like this.. It must be terrifying to have them constantly over your shoulder.  
  
It is terrifying, you realize as you follow Daryl almost by default. You have them over your shoulder now too.  
  
You both exit the house feeling a little strange about how this next week is going to play out, before you can be introduced to your new living space that kid on the porch stops you both. He nudges Daryl and glances at you.  
  
“They’re staying? Are they gonna help us fight?”  
  
You speak before Daryl has time to respond, “Hell yeah I am. I’m gonna help you guys as much as I can, do whatever possible to bring them down.”  
  
The kid smiles, somehow looking cheerful during all this. “Wow.. I can’t believe Dad just let you stay like that. I’m glad he did. I’m Carl, by the way.”  
  
You offer a small, hesitant smile, and tell your name to who you now realize is Rick’s teenager.  
  
Carl lets you be, and of course Daryl is already walking off away from you. You can’t help but wonder if the guy doesn’t like you. You would certainly understand why, can’t expect everyone in this town to be a fan, but the guy who saved you? You personally only felt a connection with Daryl- And by far he’s said the least actual words to you. Just from what’s happened so far you get the idea he may be just as reclusive as you are.  
  
Daryl’s house is only different from Rick’s in it’s lack of feeling familial. It’s lived in, definitely, there’s strewn about blankets and a few empty cans of food, weapons laid upon the table next to ammo and grind stones. There’s a bright colored, but very dirty looking poncho hanging on the wall in the living room, which you stop to admire for a moment.  
  
It’s intimidating.. Not being in Daryl’s house, or his presence even. No, just, being in a home is intimidating. You’re used to the crampedness of tents, the complete darkness of the wilderness. What was it Jen said? Being reintroduced into society against your own will?  
  
Daryl catches you in thought, you didn’t realize but he’d said your name at least twice now. You look at him in confusion, “Sorry, sorry, this is just.. A lot to take in at once. What’d you need?”  
  
“‘S fine. You need a shower, new clothes. You stink.”  
  
That seemed ironic, seeing as Daryl looked like he hadn’t showered in days. You nod before it actually hits you. A shower. You haven’t showered in years, which is disgusting now that you actually realized that, but the best you could do before were rivers or creeks. You guess that doesn’t count for much in the scheme of things. Right now you’re covered in dried blood, it’d be nice to get that off, to be able to be alone again for just a few moments.  
  
You find the shower on your own, not wanting to bother Daryl any more than you have. Once you’re inside you catch a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. What you see is enough to bring you to tears. You hardly recognize the person staring back, covered in blood, dirty, your hair longer now than it’d ever been before. You look wild, feral, so much you barely know who you are. You force yourself to look away, gulping dryly.  
  
The only difficult article of clothing to part with is Jen’s jacket. You desperately don’t want to lose it. As you slowly pull it off, you look over it, discovering a hole near the chest. It’s surrounded by a patch of dark blood- A bullet hole.  
  
You choke up. You run your hands along the fabric, your thumb circling over the hole as you close your eyes and fight the urge to cry. You fight even harder against your mind as you think about the bodies again. You can’t do that, you can’t, you try to remember Jen’s voice, anyone in the group before what happened.  
  
Doing that makes you feel a little better. Thinking about the good times, when they did happen. Sometimes it wasn’t much, sometimes you’d find a jar of peanut butter and be elated for a week, others it’d be when someone in the group found some big cache of medicine or food.  
  
You try to spend the rest of your shower thinking about those times. How faraway that all feels after just two days. As much as you’d like to spend an hour or two getting clean, you know you have to hurry it up. You scrape dried blood off, wash away the dirt, clean out your hair- You even risk to put a little soap on. The smell of actual soap in a shower fills you with nostalgia for the time before all of this, when things were normal.  
  
You exit the shower in moments, feeling cleaner than you have in years. Being clean brings your mood up a little, but not for too long. You still have to deal with clothes.  
  
You find a towel in the bathroom and cover yourself up after drying off a bit, before peeking your head out from the doorway. You don’t hear or see Daryl (although you’re sure if he wanted, you wouldn’t be able to hear or see him anyway), so you assume it’s clear for you to search around for clothes.  
  
You search the rooms for a while, seeing which room was most likely Daryl’s and which you could take up. You decide the room with the most mess is probably his, so you stay out of it. There is a spare room, though, with a closet full of abandoned clothes. You skim through and pick out random items, having less of a fashion sense these days and more of a ‘Whats comfortable and won’t get me killed?’ sense. Luckily you find something that fits you just fine; a pair of jeans to roll up, a t-shirt of a band you don’t recognize, and a dusty old flannel.  
  
You emerge, towel still in hand as you dry your hair, being careful of the bandage on your cheek.  
  
Alexandria. Mercy for the Lost. You guess they weren’t kidding about all that. Daryl is gone, you’re not sure where to, the house is empty. Your people are dead, your cheek is probably gonna have a big ass scar on it for the rest of your life, and you now live in a town full of people who you don’t know, walls that keep you from the isolation you know as your way of life.  
  
You’re in an empty home. A town that may as well be empty to you.  
  
You sit at the couch, feeling strange and unsure of what your place is here. Rick seemed like he wanted you here, but would everyone else? Daryl was impossible to read at this point, and you could argue he was avoiding you now.  
  
You sigh and rub your eyes. You have to adjust, you have to learn your way around this new world.  
  
And you will. You always will.  
  



	4. Comfort

You spend most of your day resting, getting to know the layout of Daryl’s place- You don’t venture outside. Not yet, you have to ease into this, take each step at a time. You imagine going outside and immediately being faced with more and more new people, the idea of which makes you slightly sick. You’ve seen far too many new faces in the last forty-eight hours, you think you’ve earned whatever time you’re being given alone here.  
  
It occurs to you in a pang of intense pain how hungry you are. Right, that’s why it’s good to be around people, they actually remember you need to eat. Better than you do, at least. You pull yourself away from skimming the untouched bookshelf in the corner of the living room, and into the kitchen.  
  
There isn’t much in the way of food around here, you wonder silently how Daryl gets by if he doesn’t have his own food around. Maybe there’s others in the town that bring rations to each person’s door? That can’t be it, people seem too well off here to have to do that. You scrounge around, luckily there’s a few items left in the pantry.  
  
If you told yourself two months ago you’d be sitting on a couch, eating stale potato chips, in a real, functioning town, you would’ve laughed at the notion for hours. But, here you are. The sun is finally setting, casting a golden-orange light into Daryl’s home, and you’ve spent the day doing almost nothing. You figure you probably should be taking it easy with your injury and all, but just doing nothing all day.. It’s getting you a little antsy.  
  
Usually by now you’d be helping your group set up camp, maybe jokingly fight with your friends about who’d be in charge of hauling tents next go around. That made you smile sadly, as you read over some book you grabbed.  
  
As night falls you grow more worried about your new roommate. Did he always stay out this late? Was he even in Alexandria right now? How would you even talk to a guy like Daryl..  
  
He’s like you in some ways, sure, but there’s something different about him. You’re not sure what, since you didn’t risk looking at him for more than a few seconds, but something is there. You can’t reach it and you don’t have the words to describe it; You sigh, as you get lost in frustrating thought. If you’re going to be this way, change how you live, you need to start by making a friend. Daryl may not be the easiest target; In fact he’s likely the hardest one of the people you’ve met today, but you live with him for god’s sake. You need to make an attempt.  
  
On that note, you decide to actually talk with him next time you see him. Not mumble a few sentences, no, actually talk for as long as he’ll have you.  
  
Luckily, it wasn’t so long of a wait. You’re drifting off on the couch, the bag of chips in your lap and the book still in your hands, when the sound of an engine stirs you.  
  
There’s some panic, at first. Waking up to an engine, just like before. Realizing you aren’t in your tent is another shock, but thankfully the panic only stays for a moment or so. You listen as Daryl parks his motorcycle nearby, his footsteps getting closer before he emerges from the front door.  
  
You’re a bit anxious to see him again, and you offer a small nod as he walks by. Slung against his shoulder is something you can’t help but take interest in- It’s two rabbits, freshly killed.  
  
Daryl must feel your gaze, he continues his way into the kitchen, “Sorry I was gone, I got supper.”  
  
You smile a little- He went out and hunted rabbits for you both. Maybe this won’t be so hard, you think as you make your way to him. He’s already working at skinning one, and you grab the other and a knife nearby, ready to help.  
  
“It’s alright. I know I’m kind of.. In your space here. I didn’t mean to end up here, I’m sorry.” You focus on skinning the rabbit, feeling Daryl glance at you again as you speak.  
  
He shrugs, “We got bigger things to worry ‘bout than livin’ together.”  
  
“I guess so. Still, you seem like you like it on your own. I did too- I liked being out there, just me and my people surviving.” You stop and turn your head away, “Not to say Alexandria isn’t.. Appealing. I just haven’t been this kind of person in so long.”  
  
Daryl nods, laying his rabbit down and clutching the counter with his palms. “Right.” He thinks for a moment longer, before moving to wash his bloodied hands. “Come out there with me tomorrow, so you ain’t cooped up here again. Gotta find supplies for Rick.”  
  
The offer makes you widen your eyes a bit. He wants you to come with him? You’re pretty sure that’s progress, and even if it isn’t you could certainly make it an opportunity for progress to occur. You can’t help but smile a little as you finish up the rabbit.  
  
“Sure, that sounds nice. I don’t really have my own weapons anymore, but.. That would be great.”  
  
That seems to remind him, “Oh, yeah, shit. I’ll get you somethin’, don’t worry.”  
  
You both prepare the rabbits silently for a bit. It doesn’t feel awkward to you, just a bit off from your typical night. Here you are, cooking dinner with some man. A man that saved you, took you somewhere safe, gave you a chance to fight against the Saviors. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel better with Daryl around.  
  
The stew you two throw together is done, and you’re sat on the opposite end of Daryl on the couch as you both eat. You, with a bit more vigor seeing as you’d been starving before. You feel his eyes on you every once in a while, but when you take a glance he’s staring down at his bowl.  
  
A little conversation wouldn’t hurt, you think as you enjoy the way the candlelight settles on the room now.  
  
“So um.. If you don’t mind me asking, what did the Saviors do to y’all?”  
  
Daryl looks at you, or rather looks your way and avoids your eyes entirely. He settles his bowl in his lap and looks forward then, shaking his head.  
  
“They killed us. Too many of us, made Rick look like their bitch in front of everyone. Negan took me for a while, locked me away, damn near got beat to death by his men.”  
  
You can hear a strain in Daryl’s voice, one you feel guilty for. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“  
  
He gets up with his bowl, and moves away from you silently. You frown, though you know it’s good to have asked, if only for yourself. These people have been through hell, didn’t just have to wake up to everyone being dead; They’ve had to suffer. You clench you’re spoon angrily, and when you glance up from your thoughts Daryl is gone from the kitchen, the sound of a door shutting following your realization.  
  
You don’t follow him, you know you can’t right now, as much as you’d like to talk more. That was more than you’ve gotten out of him before, but it shook him up a good bit.  
  
With a full stomach, new clean clothes, you feel sleep tug at your eyes. You curl up on the couch, setting your bowl aside for now. You don’t even realize that you fall asleep there, tucked away in the corner of the couch, spoon still clutched in your hand.  
  
Daryl gets up early. Always has, never was the type to sleep in all day. He couldn’t be nowadays anyway, he had shit to do other than sleep.  
  
He almost doesn’t remember there’s another person living here, as he’s about to depart his room without a shirt. Huffing, he pulls one on, doesn’t want to scare his new roomie off with the shit on his back. The thought pains him a bit, he shouldn’t have to worry about scars in the fucking apocalypse anyway. He shouldn’t have to worry about some stranger he brought in, why the hell did Rick trust him with them anyway?  
  
Daryl tries to get away from his thoughts by finally heading back out, getting what was left of the stew as a small breakfast. As he does he figures he’ll wake sleepin’ beauty in the other room up a little later, leave some stew for them and head out around nine.  
  
He turns to lean against the kitchen counter and eat his breakfast, before he notices the figure on his couch. He sighs quietly, and sets his bowl down.  
  
Looking around for a blanket, Daryl realizes he’d given most of his extra ones to Rick for Judith, and grabbing the ones from the extra bedroom seemed like too much unnecessary work. He glances around for another option, and decides to make due.  
  
You wake up still on the couch, but you linger for a moment, your head sore again. Tara’s meds must be waring off. You adjust a bit, instinctually pulling something closer around yourself. It’s warm, a welcome feeling around you.  
  
You realize slowly you didn’t fall asleep with a blanket. Your eyes open a bit, and the fabric you see on you is orange, a little familiar. You sit up more and stretch, yawn quietly, before you pull up the fabric and look over it. Was this... Daryl’s poncho? You can’t help but smile softly, as you get up and clutch it. You put it back up on it’s place on the wall, admiring it for a moment before the sound of a throat being cleared makes you turn.  
  
Daryl is in the kitchen doorway, he gives you a nod. “Get some breakfast, we gotta leave soon.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, before he’s moving away again and preparing his things.  
  
That must mean you’re on good terms, right? You figure so, as you grab your bowl from the night before and help yourself to a bit of cold stew. Daryl covered you up at some point.. That was thoughtful of him, you wondered if you looked cold, or if Daryl just wanted to do that. Whatever it was, it was more comfort you’d get than if you’d never been found. You never would’ve imagined gestures like that would happen to you again- Much less from an almost complete stranger like Daryl.  
  
The bike wouldn’t be as useful today, so Daryl leads you to a truck instead, you imagine because you’ll be lugging supplies all day. The idea gives you a bit of anxiety, you don’t want to be caught by the Saviors on the road- Especially not if both you and Daryl seemingly escaped their wrath entirely. You know this has to be done, though, and luckily Daryl doesn’t intend on leaving you unarmed.  
  
In the bed of the truck, there’s a few things. A knife, pistols, and even what looks like a fireman’s axe. You grin a little and grab the knife and a pistol, holstering both. You glance at the axe, then at Daryl, who gives an encouraging nod towards it. You take it, feel the weight in your hands and adjust to it. An image of you driving this thing between Negan’s eyes appears in your mind, and you gain a dark look on your face.  
  
You climb into the passengers side, staying silent as Daryl speeds off, exiting the gates of Alexandria. He turns a few times, and already you don’t recognize the roads.  
  
“So, where are we going?” You rest the axe between your legs, before looking to Daryl. He has one hand on the wheel, while the other is rested against his face, his elbow sat against the window-side.  
  
“Findin’ supplies. Most of the area ‘round here is picked clean, but maybe we’ll find somethin’.”  
  
You nod a little, and take this opportunity to actually take Daryl in. His hair isn’t actually as dirty as you thought before, just stringy and long. He reminds you a bit of yourself, when you caught yourself in the mirror; Wild looking, feral. You’re surprised someone like Daryl stays within a town like Alexandria, he seems fit for the outside more. His arms have more muscle than you thought, and of course the redneck is wearing a shirt with cut out sleeves.  
  
You pull your leg up into the seat and hug your knee, looking away as you’re sure Daryl can feel your eyes.  
  
“..What does Rick have planned for the Saviors? Do they just, come in and kill you guys? I’m still not sure what all is going on with you and them.”  
  
“They come once a week to take half our shit. They don’t need it, I seen their ‘Sanctuary’, it’s just a tactic to make us weaker. Rick-“ He exhales, seeming frustrated. “Rick wants to go with it, for a little while. Build up to a fight, like he says.”  
  
You frown a bit, “Damn.. I mean, do y’all have a choice at this point? Seems smart to wait y’know, hit em with everything you got when you actually have it.”  
He shakes his head, his grip on the steering wheel tighter. “We don’t have a choice, ‘cause Rick is makin’ them all for us.”  
  
That makes you quiet for a bit, he’s given you a lot to think about. The Saviors killed their people, took Daryl for a bit and did god knows what to him, and come back every week to take half of their supplies. No wonder Daryl brought you along, it seems like this whole situation could crumble Alexandria if they don’t have enough supplies to last between the Savior’s visits. That is some evil shit, you think to yourself as you look outside, watching the woods fly past in a gray-orange blur. Fall is here already, Alexandria has to make it through winter doing this.. You don’t think Rick is in a stable enough mind to lead correctly, so this Savior shit is gonna be going on until he is.  
  
You understand Daryl’s frustration now. “This is bullshit. Why does that Rick guy make all the decisions? Shouldn’t everyone else get a say? I mean, winter is gonna be here before we know it, and I know I haven’t been here long but, imaging having to give half of everything during the cold.. People aren’t gonna make it.”  
  
“Rick.. Rick is a good leader. He’s just dealin’ with shit right now. I been with him long enough I trust him like a brother. We just.. We just gotta find a way to make it.” Theres a lilt of sadness in his voice, instead of frustration like before. You feel guilty again for bringing it up, but if you’re gonna be useful here you need to know the whole story.  
  
Daryl pulls off and parks outside the woods, keeping the truck off to the side so it could potentially be passed as an abandoned vehicle for now. “Ain’t been out far here, let’s see what we can find.”  
  
You’re ready, more ready than ever to be able to trek through the woods again. It gives you something to do, something to distract you from the images of your dead friends you see over and over. This supply run will be a refresher for your mind- At least you hope.  
  
You walk with Daryl, who despite your previous discussion is focused in his actions, his eyes on the ground and searching around in hawklike precision. You want to try and talk, but you know it’d probably only serve to throw Daryl off. So, you hang back, let the man do what he very likely does best, wait until you’re needed. He is an interesting guy, you think, you’ve met a fair amount of men sort of like Daryl, but not exactly. Again you feel as if there’s something different that you can’t place, you’re reminded as you watch him, follow from afar, hardly even focused on what you’re supposed to be doing.  
  
Daryl stops suddenly, and crouches, his arm waving a little to signal you to do the same. He has his bow again, and seeing it resurfaces the moment when the two of you first met; It makes you uneasy.  
  
You’re not even sure what exactly he’s pointing at, you’re at the edge of a ditch and whatever it is lies out of your sight. You stay quiet, and watch Daryl, the muscles in his arms tighten a bit before he lets fly an arrow. You hear a sickening ‘thunk’ and the sound of a body hitting the forest floor. Daryl doesn’t move, not until he makes sure you’re both alone.  
  
When it’s apparent you’re in the clear, he hops down into the ditch, to which you can step closer now and see what it is he shot.  
  
Lying limply in the ditch is a deer- It cant be a few months old yet, must’ve been born late. You smell something suddenly, as you slide into the ditch yourself, though a quick glance around reveals the source. Nearby, another corpse is lying in the dirt, a bigger dear you can only assume was the poor thing’s mother.  
  
Daryl seems unaffected, and to be fair, you’ve done much worse things for food. Just seeing something like this, though.. It’s enough to shake you up a little. As Daryl hoists the fresh deer up onto his shoulder, you venture closer to the thing’s mother, looking for the bite marks you assume the dead left afterwards. Strangely enough, you don’t see any. The deer doesn’t look too old, old enough to give birth, but not old enough to just.. Keel over.  
  
“Daryl.. I don’t know if we should take that back. Come look.”  
  
He makes a noise of confusion, before joining you. “Whatta ‘bout it?”  
  
“It doesn’t have bites, dude. Maybe it got sick, if it did we can’t risk letting your people eat that one, it could be sick too.” You frown a bit, turning to him and covering your nose from the rotting smell emanating around you.  
  
He thinks for a second. “Maybe. Maybe we just give it to the Saviors, get ‘em sick. They got a doctor- Well, they stole Hilltop’s. Could still be a pain in their ass, though.”  
  
You’re not sure what or where ‘Hilltop’ is, but the idea is pretty good, in all honesty. “That could work, we force them to waste medical supplies.” You glance over the younger deer, and open your arms a little after holstering your axe. “Let me carry it, Daryl. Alexandria needs you more than me, you can’t afford to get sick.”  
  
He looks at you, almost scowling at the notion. “Hell no, ‘s my kill.” To emphasize his point he yanks the arrow from the deer’s flesh, making you roll your eyes a bit.  
  
“Alright, then let me use your bow. We need more than one scrawny, sick deer, right?”  
  
He stares at you, clutching the deer. Finally he pulls it from his shoulder and shoves the thing into your chest, which knocks the breath from you a little as you gather the thing up so it doesn’t fall. Feeling satisfied, you copy what Daryl did before and hoist the young deer onto your shoulder. It’s heavier than you imagined, but you keep up regardless, not wanting to look weak in front of him.  
  
You don’t find much more wildlife around. Daryl shoots a few squirrels, strings them up, but other than that all you have to show for this trip is a single sick, practically baby deer.  
  
Along your way back to the truck (Which Daryl of course leads the way, you’re a decent tracker but not nearly skilled enough to come back such a ways), you do run into a few walkers, who amble around the woods slowly, only stirring when they catch sight of you and Daryl. In what looks like frustration, he shoves an impressive looking knife into two of their skulls, before kicking the other down into the ditch you’d found earlier. He huffs, avoiding your eyesight and worried look, continuing the trek without waiting on you to catch up.  
  
By the time you make it to the truck again, it’s already a little after noon. You haul the deer into the bed, and Daryl wraps his squirrels up and sets them separately from the sick meat.  
  
When you’re both back inside, you feel sweaty, a bit unsanitary from that deer- The one you kept and the rotting one who’s stench seems to stick to your nose.  
  
“Well.. It’s better than nothing, right? And we still have daylight, we could find a house to scavenge, or something.” You try your best to sound optimistic for him.  
  
Daryl stares at the steering wheel, seeming in thought. Frustrated, but thoughtful. His forearm is rested against the wheel, and without looking up he speaks up, “You been askin’ a lot about what happened to us. Why don’t you tell me what happened to you.” He starts the truck up, side glancing you in a way that you honestly can’t read.  
  
“I did- I told Rick. I know you guys went through a lot and I’m not trying to invade. You brought me here.” You sound as confused as you feel, and Daryl sits back, seeming to struggle to keep back what he actually wants to say.  
  
He inhales sharply, before facing you. You almost think his eyes look sadder- Nearly on the verge of tears. His voice just dips into a low anger. “You got hit with that fucking bat. And you survived it. Why did you get to survive, huh?” His breath is getting quick, you can tell he’s trying his hardest to even it out.  
  
The question hits you hard. Truly, you had no idea why you got to survive and your group didn’t. You know Daryl probably means his own people, whoever it is the Saviors killed, but it feels wrong to you too. You drop your head slightly in guilt, “I shouldn’t have. I should’ve died with everyone else, I don’t- I don’t know how okay? It was dark, my people were attacking Negan, and they fucking forgot about me after it was all over. That’s my guess. If not they just.. Wanted me to suffer, or whatever, which they certainly fucking achieved.” You feel hot, angry tears sting your eyes, “I wish they’d have killed me. But they forgot about me, just like the world has now that they’re gone. No one knows me, the only people I ever had during all this are gone, and I’m in the middle of a war that I didn’t even know was happening. It’s all my fault. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You’re crying now, you can’t help it. You look ahead, away from his ever changing eyes.  
  
Daryl is quiet again, like he’s taking your words in. You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t care. All those feelings resurfaced violently, those images reappear.  
  
“I got someone I loved killed.” Daryl finally breaks the tense silence, “Just before I got taken. His name was Glenn.” He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face. You refuse to look at him, but you still listen intently.  
  
“I uh, punched Negan in the face after he killed another guy in our group. Had us all on our knees like they did with y’all.”  
  
That’s enough to make you turn slightly. Daryl punched Negan in the face? How was he not dead already?  
  
“Instead of killin’ me, he killed Glenn. Fucking, Glenn.. Right in front of his wife, too. That was my fault, he died ‘cause of me.”  
  
You can tell Daryl isn’t used to opening up, but you understand why he’s telling you this. You wipe your eyes and sniffle a bit, “I guess we feel similarly, then. My group was willing to work with the Saviors, everyone except me. That got them killed. Daryl-“  
  
He looks at you, and you look back, pausing for a moment. You take in his features, before you make your mind up.  
You move and climb out of the truck, pulling your pistol from your holster and returning it to the bed of the truck, along with the axe. Daryl gets out immediately after, “The hell are you doin’?”  
  
“Leaving. You don’t need me, Alexandria doesn’t need me, I’m just a reminder of what Negan does. Another mouth to feed. Someone who shouldn’t be alive.” You weigh the knife in your hand before tossing it into the truck, though as you turn around you nearly bump into Daryl. He’s close, and he grabs your arm, “Get back in the damn truck, I ain’t leaving you out here.”  
  
You scowl, “Why not? Just tell Rick I got bit out here, or I ran away, something like that. I just remind you of what happened, I don’t-“ You inhale and cut yourself off, trying to wriggle your arm free instead.  
  
“I’m not doin’ that, whatever you ‘remind’ me of ain’t nothing on what leavin’ you would do. I can’t live with somethin’ like that, especially if the Saviors found ya. They’d either kill you, or turn you against Alexandria. That what you want?” His grip tightens on your arm, and you back against the truck, practically growling like an animal at him.  
  
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Daryl! I’m not Alexandrian, I’m not ‘Hilltop’, I’m not a Savior! I’m nothing, and that’s all I can be now.” You have to inhale a bit, your own breath seeming to speed up. You give up on pulling your arm away; Daryl isn’t moving and you damn well aren’t strong enough to fight him. “Just leave me.. Just leave me, man.”  
  
Daryl tugs you’re arm and leads you back to your side of the truck, and opens it up again. “Get in. I ain’t asking again.” It seems like he tries to sound intimidating, but there’s a tired desperation you notice in his voice. You don’t understand why he won’t do this, it’d be so much easier for everyone.  
  
Without much a choice, you climb in. Your hands shake a bit as your mind runs through plans of escape, your cheek pulsing in pain again. Daryl slams your door shut, and climbs into his own side, driving off as soon as he can. There’s this tense silence again, but your thoughts are very much loud enough to fill it. You watch the road ahead as Daryl accelerates, your hand slowly moving to the door handle. You can just leave, everyone would go back to how they were before, they’d deal with the Saviors themselves, and you could return to the isolation you deserve.  
  
Things happen all at once. You move fast, opening the door to your side as Daryl flies down the road, to which you lunge out of, landing roughly against the pavement, then the grass as you roll a bit. You scramble to your feet, your cheek’s stitches opening again, and your body now sore from scrapes. You don’t allow yourself the time to be affected by such things, before you’re running into the woods.  
  
This is right, you think, as you hear Daryl yelling at you from a distance. He thinks he wants to save you, but that’s not how this works. The world is different now, you don’t get to enjoy small towns, family, vengeance. You’re lost, but you won’t allow mercy to be shown. Not after what you did, after the unnecessary deaths of so many. It doesn’t matter if Daryl got other people killed by the Saviors too, it wasn’t his entire group.  
  
You fly through the woods, stumbling a few times as you run for as long as you can- even longer than that. You have to, if you stop you’ll have to think of what happens next, which you honestly aren’t sure of.  
  
The comfort of Alexandria is too much. The comfort Daryl offered is too much. You are determined to find your own comfort in the starvation that’ll likely kill you out here, or the walker that’ll find you in an unfortunate position, or the thirst that will dry your body in just a few days. This is right, you think again, as you practically collapse from exhaustion against a tree, surrounded by the comforts of the wilderness.


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions/sort of an attempt at suicide (Nothing too visceral, just the idea of purposefully getting lost in the woods and dying).

It’s very hard to leave. It shouldn’t be, Daryl knows if someone wants to chance it that badly that he should just let them, but even knowing his own principles on things like this, it takes a lot from him to even move. He’d already come to a screeching halt, and looked in the rear-view mirror to make sure they didn’t just roll out and pass out or something. No, they’d just got to their feet and ran, right into the woods.  
  
Were they really worth this amount of hassle? They said it themself, they didn’t deserve to be alive. They got their whole damn group murdered out of arrogance.  
  
He gulps and thinks about how he felt- How he still feels, about Glenn’s death. Daryl got to spend his time grieving for two of his friends while locked away, being tortured by that fucking song, being fed dog food and beat half to death more than once. He rubs his face tiredly, thinking how they must feel right now, being partially responsible for an entire group of people dying.  
  
He weighs his options. He can get out, search for them and lose his chance to get more shit for Alexandria, or he can leave, let them fend for themselves for a while. Maybe they need the time, maybe they’ll want to come back after a while of being alone.  
  
It’s tough, and Daryl doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision as he starts the truck back up and leaves, heading for the nearest abandoned town while he still has gas. Leaving hurts a little, but he promises himself he’ll check on them in a day or so, offer to take ‘em back to Alexandria, or leave them some water at the very least.  
  
He makes the rest of the run a quick and simple one, despite his lack of help. Unfortunately he doesn’t find much to salvage in the town either, just some extra clothes, a few spare cans of food, some tools. That’s not the hard part, though, he thinks as he pulls into the gates of Alexandria, not sure what he’s gonna tell Rick.  
  
He unloads what he gathered to the appropriate places- The food and tools to their storehouse, the sick deer comes with him to his home, though, so he can skin it and keep up with the meat, so no one else eats it. Afterwords he enters Rick’s house through the backdoor, although he finds he’s not there at the moment.  
  
Oh, right. He’s been gone more and more often these days between the Savior’s visits, off with Michonne to gather supplies. Daryl huffs and simply writes a note and leaves it on Rick’s kitchen table, reading ‘[Y/N] ran off today. Gonna look for them soon. Got sick deer for the Saviors. -Daryl’  
  
He doodles a little middle finger and leaves it at that, before retreating to his own home to defuse. This shit is taking a lot out of him lately, and watching over some manic asshole that runs off and asks too many questions is enough to make his head hurt.  
  
Daryl settles on his couch, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. When he opens them again, they unintentionally land on his poncho hanging on the wall. He sighs, thinking of when he’d first got it, when things weren’t so damn messy. He thinks of how different he was- Maybe it wasn’t immediately apparent, but Daryl felt as if he’d learned so much since those days. Hell, he gave that stranger a place in his house without so much as a ‘Fuck off’. He felt empathy for them, almost as much as he felt frustrated that they wouldn’t just let him help. He knew almost exactly what they were going through, if anyone in Alexandria was qualified to help with that it’d be him. That’s what he thought, at least.  
  
He skips dinner. There’s still a little stew left from last night, and he’d planned on grabbing something from the storehouse for himself and them, but since they aren’t even around he doesn’t see much of a point.  
  
His rest that night is fretful, as he lies awake a few hours thinking about what could possibly happen to them out there. They could get bit, get hurt somehow without any way to patch themself up. They could be found by the Saviors, have the same thing that happened to him happen, maybe even worse if they run their mouth like before.  
  
When he does finally fall asleep, he has upsetting dreams of being locked away in the sanctuary himself, that goddamn song playing over and over, Dwight and his ugly mug berating him over nothing. Negan..  
  
He wakes even earlier than he normally does, it’s still completely dark out. He doesn’t care much, he grabs a quick snack for the road and hops on his bike, deciding then and there in the early morning that he has to find them again; He can’t live with risking what happened to him happening to someone else.  
  
———  
  
Distantly, you hear the sound of the truck driving off. You smile lightly to yourself, and thank Daryl silently, you’re glad that he understands what little value you have.  
  
So, here you are, let loose into the woods again. You take the moment to catch your breath, feeling your heart beating violently from your sprint through the trees; It’s a good feeling, you think. What’s not so good is the pulsing on your body, from the nasty looking scrapes on your forearms and hip from rolling out of the truck- Which you discover by peeling away the fabric of your flannel and shirt, hissing softly as the raw skin practically glows with pain, to the disturbed stitches that bleed slightly under the bandage.  
  
After your heart calms a bit, the pain from your wounds really begins to set in. You have to pull it together though, just keep walking until something stops you. With a pained noise you force yourself to take a few steps again, making sure you’re still heading opposite direction of the road far behind you.  
  
You get a good chance to think while you walk. The only thing you suppose you’ll miss is Jen’s jacket, you wish you’d brought it out here so that when you do die, you can have it close. The thought makes you sigh, although your mind is too frayed now for any tears to surface.  
  
After an hour of simply walking through the woods, a sound hits you, you didn’t even realize it was happening until you practically stepped into it. It was a creek, nothing too big or noisy, just a trickling thing with banks that didn’t fall too steeply. The woods around you are clear of other noises, no walkers or animals around, just you as you take a moment to rest, sitting with your legs crossed near the creek. You sit close enough that you can run your hands through the water, feeling it’s cool caress against your fingers- Even colder with the weather dropping every day.  
  
You suppose you aren’t going to die of thirst, you think as you cup your hands into the water and sip, before you cover your face in the water, washing off for a moment. It feels nice against the cool air, and for a moment you feel almost calm, almost forgetting the reason you’re out here anyway.  
  
Of course, your mind isn’t that kind. You ask yourself what you’re doing, why you’re even drinking this if you want to die out here. Do your instincts truly rule over every fucking thing you do now? You are out here to die, not to enjoy the wonders of nature and feel calm. You think about how your friends would feel seeing you this way, rejecting help and running from all of this, trying to die like a starving animal in the woods. The thought stings, and you force yourself up again, stepping heavily through the creek and continuing your journey.  
  
You know night will fall soon, but that’s not going to stop you. You’re gonna keep going, walk until you physically can’t anymore. Hopefully until your feet bleed or give out under you. Then, you’ll lay on the forest floor, wait for a walker or something else to find you and kill you. Join the new circle of life.  
  
———  
  
It’s the first light of morning by the time Daryl finds the spot he lost them at. He hides his motorcycle in the woods, covers it up with some foliage, before he stands at the tree line, searching for the place you entered. Sure enough there’s a small dent in the bushes and leaves a few feet away, and Daryl enters without hesitation, following this direction until he can get a better track.  
  
———  
  
You don’t even notice the morning arrives. You long since collapsed against a big pine, your entire body pushed past it’s limit of exhaustion. You passed a walker in your trek, but you’re pretty sure it got lost following you a few hours ago, because it got harder to focus on going once it’s noises became fainter and fainter. You slump here against this tree, your eyes closing on their own. You have to force them open again every few moments, although you’re unsure why you do this. You want to pass out, you feel the need to rest pulling at you, but that wasn’t the point of this. Again, you think, that’s not the point. The point is to make yourself suffer for what you did, not take a nap against a tree just because you’re a bit tired.  
  
That’s one of the last things you think before you pass out.  
  
When you wake up again, it’s from a dreamless sleep, and you wake up a bit shaken up, as you internally yell at yourself for falling asleep. You huff and run a hand through your hair, honestly disappointed you didn’t just pass in your sleep. You suppose it hasn’t been long enough for that to happen.  
  
You stretch your legs out, really feeling the soreness from walking so much. You pull at your calf muscles, before attempting to stand up. It hurts like hell, and you have to lean against the tree for a good moment or so, but you’re up. You’re up, and you can keep going for the day, at least until you collapse again. The sun is out, hanging low and youthful in the sky, and you absentmindedly wonder what Daryl is up to. You genuinely do hope that he found more supplies, that Rick didn’t chew him out or anything for letting you go. You wonder if he misses you.  
  
Probably not, you think as you mentally slap yourself for thinking something so selfish. You just met the guy, and he clearly doesn’t enjoy company very much. He left you, and that’s the only action he did for you that was actually useful. Helping you keep going, trying to feed you or comfort you.. That just kept you alive longer. The life you may as well have stolen from your group.  
  
———  
  
A mist falls over the forest in the early morning hours, just as the sun begins to paint the sky in it’s brilliant morning colors. Daryl is on their track, definitely, just earlier he found fresh tracks in the mud near a creek; They aren’t even trying to make their tracks confusing, they’re just traveling in a straight line through the woods. The idea makes Daryl uneasy as he follows, keeping a sharp eye out for movement.  
  
As the sun rises a little higher he stumbles across a walker heading in the same direction your tracks lead. Daryl is silent as he walks, and the sight of this walker going the same way fills him with a bit of hope, he eagerly put it down with his knife before continuing hastily, feeling more and more nervous about their well being. What if they’re already bitten by now? Or being bitten as he follows these tracks? They have absolutely nothing to defend themself with, and he’s pretty sure even if they did they wouldn’t use it.  
  
Finally, he finds a big pine tree. The tracks are a little strange here; They diverge to the left towards the tree before they continue on, and against the bark is a bit of scraping, he can only assume they sat there for a while.  
  
A faint noise makes him look up- A branch breaking. It’s not too close, and it could be a walker or a squirrel, but Daryl isn’t taking the chance.  
  
A shambling figure lies in front of him not five minutes after he moves from the pine. He recognizes the flannel, and watches your movement with a growing anxiety and sadness. The way you walk seems close enough to a walker that it makes him draw his bow. He kicks a rock towards you, trying to draw your attention.  
  
You don’t even know he’s behind you. You hear the rock, and you stall for a moment, before you just keep walking. If another walker had caught your trail, it can keep up, earn it’s meal either by waiting or catching up to you.  
  
Daryl notices this and realizes that’s not how walkers work. You’re alive- You’re still going. He runs and gets in front of you, pushing your shoulders back almost angrily. You stare at him, your eyes lidded in exhaustion, your face and clothes dirtied again. You feel a small amount of gratitude in seeing him, did he track you all the way out here? It was useless, considering you were set on dying in these woods, but the sentiment was sweet.  
  
“You gonna say somethin’?” Daryl looks you over, sounding agitated.  
  
You shake your head, and try to move past him. This earns another shove. You sigh, and simply stand stationary. “Y-You,” Your throat stings when you try and talk, and you swallow thickly as you realize how dry it is again. “You didn’t have to come here. I want this, don’t you see that?”  
  
Daryl bristles and furrows his brow, “Only thing I see here is someone where they shouldn’t be. I don’t think you get what you’re askin’ me to live with, you’re doin’ the same shit the Saviors did to you, makin’ me responsible for your death for no goddamn reason.”  
  
That statement makes you narrow your eyes at him, and he almost matches your gaze, if not for the look of slight desperation in his eye. Your own look softens as you take in his features absentmindedly. You aren’t sure what to say, was this really that similar?  
  
“Why do you care so much?” The words slip out quietly, and you avoid his eyes as he thinks on the question.  
  
“Cause I been where you are. Only I was locked in a fuckin’ cell and didn’t have a way to do this. Had to spend that time thinkin’ and figuring things out- Decided I wanted to kill Negan more than I wanted to kill myself.” It seems odd even for Daryl himself to speak so much of his feelings, but his words reach you.  
  
You stare at the ground and nod a bit, “Yeah.. I do want him dead, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t know how useful I’m gonna be to your people if I’m how I am. Just- I’m reckless, stupid, I’m gonna cause you all more problems than I’m worth, and-“ You speak a little faster the more you go on, and Daryl has to interrupt you by grabbing your arm lightly.  
  
“Even if that is true- And it ain’t, I’m not just gonna let you rot out here. That’s the difference between us and those asshole Saviors. We care about folks, take em in. Now stop arguing with me and come on.”  
  
There isn’t much fight left in you anyway, you think, as Daryl pulls your arm when you don’t move with him; Not maliciously or violently, just a tug to get you moving. And you do, much to your own surprise. Even though your legs are sore and your body aches, you follow Daryl closely. You don’t look away from him, you’re tired of the forest, the dirt, you just focus on his vest, his arms concealed by dark fabric, his ripped up and worn jeans- The image of him is almost comforting. Maybe you’re just tired, deprived of food and adequate rest, but Daryl’s presence is so much better than you thought it was before. Was the ghost of kindness and worry always there within his voice? You can’t remember, but you noticed it today, and you don’t think you’ll be able to forget it.  
  
Maybe it’s only because he helped you. That must be it, you think as time passes quickly enough you’re surprised to see the road again. In reality you’re not sure how long it’s been, how long you just stared at him walking. It’s only because he helped you, and you’re in a rough place of mind, you think as you climb onto the motorcycle with him again. He found you more lost than you’ve ever been in your life, even when all this first started you’ve never felt that way. He talked you out of becoming even more lost, maybe he’ll even help you find the way back.  
  
That’s what you hope, as your hand instinctually grips his shoulder. When you realize you were doing this you pull your hand away and clutch the sides of the bike hard enough your knuckles whiten.  
  
You were just lost. Daryl was just doing his job. Nothing more to look into than that, nothing more than another body to throw into their war with the Saviors.


End file.
